Disclaimer JK Rowling owns all the Harry Potter characters and plots and settings, not me.
Notes Written for the lj hp_georgecentric drabble challenge. I is for Igor. Using the prompts 'burning' and 'the oncoming storm'.
Warning Maybe just the tiniest glimpse of the edge of a pre-slash, reference to character's imminent death.
Word Count 497. (Yes!)
Before Death Ate Him
It was a dangerous time to be doing it, but danger had never worried the twins. It was inconceivable that either of them would ever actually suffer injury or death. It was a Hogsmeade weekend. They made sure everybody saw them set off for the village, and nobody saw them Apparate away.
The air smelled of smoke; the sky was orange. George saw flames. He put a finger to his lips and pointed. They both assessed the situation silently: they were in a small wood and the other side of it had been set on fire. They moved swiftly. Perhaps they should have moved swiftly away from, not towards, the danger.
Pointed hoods were silhouetted against the flames, the masks glinted in the firelight. Death Eaters. Their wands ignited branches overhead. They were calling out in a language that the twins didn't know. The boys retreated, looking for the type of hollow tree where their toadstools would grow.
When they heard a cough in the undergrowth, they exchanged a look which only they could read, before diving simultaneously, without signal, into a thick-branched bush. A bundle of rags twisted sharply, then looked at them with the pale, sharp, bearded face of a man laden with terror.
George recognised him, although he was greatly changed from the year before. "Mr Karkaroff," he whispered. The broken man hushed him.
"They looking for you?" Fred asked with a jerk of his head towards the Death Eaters.
The former headmaster of Durmstrang whimpered as he nodded. He clutched his left arm pathetically.
"You should Apparate away, then," George advised. "They look serious."
"Always now I am running." It was the voice of a man who hadn't spoken for a long time. "I will be dead soon."
"You might be all right," Fred said, doubtfully.
Karkaroff looked up into their faces, murmuring "I was so young when I made mistake." He displayed his arm on which the Dark Mark was branded. "Don't make mistake, boys." He looked straight into George's face. "So young and handsome I was too."
"Come on!" Fred hissed to his twin. "Do you want to get high or get hexed?"
But George was pinned in place by the raw horror in the eyes boring into his. Karkaroff touched George's cheek. Smoke made George's eyes water. Karkaroff stared at his finger as it traced down the schoolboy's face.
"When I was young man, you were just the type ..." the old Death Eater said so softly that he was barely audible.
Fred grabbed his twin, yelling, "There's someone coming!" and pulling his wand out.
George dipped his head and pressed his lips to the man's sunken cheek. They Apparated away with no hallucinogenic fungi and stinking of woodsmoke.
"Gross!" Fred sneered. "What d'you do that for? Kissing some weird old bloke?"
"Give the bloke a break!" George answered calmly. "He's going to be dead within the week. He might as well get a sample of perfection before he goes!"
